


to bloom and wilt

by spoiltmilk



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet, M/M, Reincarnation AU, artist! daniel, fast burn, heavy angst lol, nielwink ss, writer! jihoon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-06-26 06:24:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15657585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spoiltmilk/pseuds/spoiltmilk
Summary: Jihoon wakes up disoriented and stripped of his memories in a hospital ward with white walls and bright yellow flowers and a stranger promising him that he has three stories to tell. In between kisses shared in the rain, nights spent stargazing and secret meetings at four in the morning, Jihoon finds himself inevitably falling for this boy named Daniel.





	to bloom and wilt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eotteokeos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eotteokeos/gifts).



> written for eotteokeos who sent in this prompt: reincarnation au (one remembers and one forgets)! ^3^ i lub you and i'm sorry this is unbeta-ed
> 
> i'm 99% sure this fic is medically incorrect but bear with me
> 
> also sort-of based off one of my twt prompts: https://twitter.com/0913films/status/1012275703113441280

 

 

 

**∞**

 

 

 

**"There are all kinds of love in this world, but never the same love twice."**

-F. Scott Fitzgerald

 

 

 

**∞**

 

 

 

The window fogged up as soon as Jihoon released the breath he'd been holding. With a shaky finger, he wrote the letters PJH on the glass and sat back to watch it vanish slowly.

 

He couldn't believe that the orange leaves paving the roads outside were about to crackle and break under the weight of a blanket of snow-- December was coming but Jihoon had yet to adjust to the cold. Everything felt strange to him lately. The fact that whenever he tried to remember  _something_ , all he could see was an empty wall with frames devoid of pictures where there should have been. The fact that so much time had flown by since he allegedly fell into coma after an accident that happened in summer... which was at least three or four months ago. The fact that the world had continued moving without him, like someone had pressed pause on his life while everyone else was allowed to live on.

 

The fact that he couldn't even remember who the two people clinging on to him when he first woke up, crying hysterically, were until it occurred to him that they might be his parents.

 

Every day, every day, new people dropped by to visit. There was this tall, handsome boy named Minhyun who claimed he was Jihoon's senior in school; Woojin, a funny guy with a snaggletooth who was apparently his best friend; and the person who had him taken aback the most was undoubtedly his  _boyfriend_ Jinyoung.

 

Whenever he was around, Jihoon couldn't help but shift uncomfortably either in his bed or his favorite spot by the frosted windows. He couldn't be sure if it was because this boy, who might have been his first kiss, always stared at him with a look on his face that Jihoon couldn't comprehend or if something had really happened between the both of them before he lost his memories, something that always left Jihoon wary and jittery in his presence. Jinyoung didn't really visit as much anymore, but even when he did, he rarely initiated conversation, thus leading to Jihoon's limited trust and knowledge on the strange boy. All he really knew about Jinyoung was that Woojin despised him and even his parents shook their heads in disapproval every time his name was brought up.

 

Worst of all was the fact that no one was willing to share details of what had happened to him. And it was frustrating and all he could think about whenever he was alone, left to his own devices while gnawing on his fingernails till a hint of blood begin seeping into his mouth and tainting his taste buds. He was more than sure that it had been an accident-- he could still feel what might have been a large gash running along the side of his head-- but that was it. On several occasions, his doctor would try to encourage him by saying that it was a miracle he'd managed to survive. So it was an accident that nearly took away the rest of his life at the age of sixteen (almost seventeen now), but that was where his deductions had met a tragic dead end.

 

He'd considered consulting the ultimate know-it-all a.k.a. Google, but he couldn't use his phone for more than five minutes without feeling the backs of his eyes burn or his mother snatching the device away, all the while tutting and wagging an accusatory finger at him.

 

 _A week_ , he thought to himself,  _a whole fucking week had passed and I still know shit._ It was unfair to hide something that belonged to him, something that was potentially the key to unlocking the rest of his memories away, out of reach. Trying to remember something was like attempting to find the last piece of the puzzle he was completing, only to realize that your efforts were futile because while you had an idea of where it could be, it remained an impossible task to accomplish.

 

"Fuck," he cursed. He wanted his old life back. He wished he could close his eyes and wake up in an alternate universe where his skin wasn't this sickly pale and his body wasn't emaciated. He wished he didn't have to feel this hollow inside, like a shell of a human come to life.

 

He wished he didn't have to feel like a cheap imposter every single second he spent awake and breathing.

 

So he let his eyes flutter shut and the tears roll down, drawing and watching his name disappear until he finally felt like he could fly away.

 

 

 

 

 

**∞**

 

 

 

 

 

There was finally a break in his routine on a Monday morning, when he was only three days away from discharge. He was admittedly disappointed when the doctor reminded him that he still had to come back for regular check-ups but Jihoon was glad either way that he could finally leave this fucking hell. There was just something about the bare white walls in his ward that unnerved him-- along with every other piece of white furniture in his room. It all just felt like a  _lie_ that everything was okay.

 

With his fingers curled into fists on both sides and shoulders squared, Jihoon marched (staggered) in the direction of the dining hall, all the while grumbling under his breath and glaring at the nurses whom he passed by though they paid him no notice.

 

He wasn't even hungry. He just wanted to get away from Irene for once, the nurse who brought him his breakfast every day with a fake smile plastered on her face and talked like she Jihoon wasn't smart enough to  _know_ she was being fake. Or maybe he was just being sensitive and unfair.  _Whatever_.

 

People swerved out of his way instantly when they saw him coming and the overall effect was akin to the fucking red sea. It was just-- all this confusion and sense of injustice boiling in him that caused him to lash out on others. The doctor had assured him that whatever memory he'd lost, he would get back eventually, but so far, Jihoon was still being kept in the dark about his past.  _My past_ , he scoffed to himself. It angered him further to have to label what happened mere months ago as his "past" like it had been longer than he thought. He just couldn't shake off how  _natural_ it felt to not remember and what he felt was edging on fear that burned with such intensity that it could not be overlooked.

 

He was  _scared_. Afraid that he might have to live like this forever, afraid of the fact that he was slowly easing and resigning to his fate without a fight.

 

A sudden surge of anxiety seized him, the flame spreading like fire from the base of his stomach like an ignited spark. He hurried over to the side of the corridor and gripped the bars installed on the wall tightly, breath coming in short, harsh pants while he struggled to gather his bearings. He was attracting looks of concern from curious onlookers, but none of them stopped to help and he was a little grateful for it. 

 

A name. It flashed across his mind and blurred out the rest of his thoughts. It reminded him of the first time he woke up from coma, when he couldn't even remember his own name, let only his friends or family. It was strange. Strange that the first thing he thought of since he was rendered a step away from death was a name that he had yet to connect to someone he knew. He'd be lying if he said that this hadn't been bothering him. But he was still reluctant to bring the matter up to anyone, not even Woojin, who'd proven to Jihoon that he was someone to be trusted.

 

Whoever it was, that person must have been important in his life, because he was all Jihoon could think about when he woke up from the nightmares that followed him into sleep every night, when he was struggling to recall a memory in particular, or just in moments like this-- when he was a panicked mess, bewildered and doubtful of his own identity because he couldn't tell who was telling the truth about  _himself_.

 

Woojin would show him polaroids taken out of a box he'd bring to Jihoon each time he visited, each picture bringing a smile to his face but not doing anything in helping a memory resurface. Minhyun would talk to him about his school life and laugh at Jihoon's miserable fails in sculpting. Not helpful as well, but Jihoon managed to gather that he was a student at an art school that was pretty hard to get into, but he managed with his drawings and paintings. His parents would sit by his bed and guide him through his childhood and bring him items that were supposed to allow him to "revisit" his old life, but it wasn't working either.

 

It just wasn't possible that he only had happy memories. The more he listened to them talk, the more his suspicion that they were lying to him grew.

 

There was huge part missing from the puzzle they were piecing together for him and it frustrated him because the only one who could recover what they were reluctant to share, was him. Everyone assured him that he would get his memories back, but it would be a very slow, arduous process.

 

He didn't have time. He didn't know why, but he had a gut feeling that if he didn't start remembering  _now_ , he'd miss out on something important soon.

 

When a finger tapped him on the shoulder, he jolted and whipped around, triggering a sharp pain where the stitches had been.

 

"Are you okay?" there was a stranger standing behind him, concern radiating off his eyes. Something about how worried he looked made Jihoon uncomfortable--  it was almost as though this guy knew and cared about him. "Can I... can I help you out or something? Call the doctor?"

 

" _No!"_ Jihoon shouted immediately-- almost too quickly-- and regretted it. He could feel his cheeks burning from embarrassment. "Just." He exhaled through his nose, annoyed at himself, before speaking up again, "Can you help me get up?"

 

The guy's lips thinned into a blinding smile like he was elated to be of assistance to Jihoon. As the guy stabled Jihoon on his feet carefully, the latter scanned the stranger from head to toe and noted his casual attire, which meant that he didn't work here and that he wasn't a patient either. Then Jihoon's eyes fell on the bandage wrapped around the guy's right pinky.

 

"Yeah, I fell down on my hand while attempting a handstand earlier today," he laughed nervously. "It's nothing, really. I've had worse injuries while dancing."

 

Jihoon returned his smile after a moment's hesitation. "You're a dancer?" he asked just to fill in the silence between them.

 

"Ah, that's a difficult question." There was another smile and a laugh before he answered, and Jihoon got the impression that this guy could possibly be the happiest person he'd met since he woke up. "I guess you could say I dance as a hobby. I'm more into sculpting. We, uh, we go to the same school, actually."

 

His eyes widened, interest picking up. "We do?"

 

The stranger rubbed the back of his neck, looking abashed. "Yeah, but we've never really  _met_ each other. I've only heard about you and stuff-- you're quite popular in school, you know. I was assigned to be your mentor for the extra classes in summer, but..."

 

"Then I got into an accident," Jihoon breathed out, completing the guy's sentence. "What's your name?"

 

A beat passed. And another. Then came his answer, and Jihoon felt all the air being squeezed out his lungs.

 

"Kang Daniel."

 

 _Kang Daniel_.

 

Jihoon was sure of it--  _this_ was how he was going to get his memories back.

 

But there was something  _not right_ about this. If he had never met Daniel before, why did he seem the most familiar to him?

 

"I-I'm Park Jihoon."

 

Amusement lit up Daniel's eyes as they crinkled up into crescents, and Jihoon noticed the mole below his right eye and felt a sudden urge to reach out and touch it. "I know, Jihoon, I was supposed to be your mentor, remember?"

 

"No, I don't." He wanted to take those words back, but it was too late. Jihoon berated himself for ruining the conversation as Daniel's expression fell, an apology rising to his lips. "Sorry, I-- I don't know what the fuck has been wrong with me lately."

 

"Have you had breakfast?" Daniel asked, changing the topic entirely.

 

Jihoon shook his head vigorously, eager to jump at the chance to befriend this guy, who could  _definitely_ be the key to his past though he wasn't exactly sure where the link was. "I was just on the way to the dining hall. Let's go together."

 

Daniel's eyebrows rose as if he was surprised but he didn't question Jihoon further.

 

They walked together and Jihoon couldn't help but notice how their pace matched, Daniel's long legs walking in tandem with his shorter ones.

 

It brought a smile to his lips, so he ducked his head and tried not to think about it.

 

 

 

 

 

**∞**

 

 

 

 

 

"I'll order for us," Daniel said as soon as they found a table.

 

"No, I--"

 

"It's fine," Daniel assured him with a disarming smile, and Jihoon wondered if he kept on doing that because he knew how cute it was. "I'm your senior at school, this is something I should do. And I'd love to treat you, actually." Jihoon couldn't be sure if Daniel was flirting. He wasn't even sure if he  _wanted_ Daniel to flirt with him. All that mattered was that his heart's pace was quickening and this was the first time something like this had happened  _in a long while_ and he wanted it to last. "What are you getting?"

 

Jihoon didn't know what to say. He  _wasn't even hungry_. On days when his parents were working and his friends were pre-occupied with school stuff, he didn't even eat most of his meals. And it wasn't on purpose-- eating was one of those things that slipped his mind when he was busy focusing on useless things. But he was sure it'd be awkward if he chose to sit and watch Daniel eat alone, so he said the first thing that came to mind. "Uh. Cheese omelettes?"

 

The older guy's lips quirked into a smirk but he only nodded and walked away.

 

Turning around, he glanced at the clock quickly. Woojin would be coming after school with his notes and polaroids, which--

 

Why wasn't Daniel at school? He sank his teeth into his bottom lip as he waited for Daniel to return to their table.

 

Which he did, only moments after, balancing a tray piled high with food while he avoided people left and right, determined to reach his destination unscathed. He set the tray down with a flourish before he sat himself down opposite Jihoon, holding up two pairs of chopsticks with a bright smile. Really, Jihoon found it hard not to hand his trust over to Daniel.

 

"Dig in, I know you're hungry. I got us a glass of orange juice and some water too cause I didn't know which one you'd like."

 

"Water," Jihoon replied, hoping his appreciation showed through the small smile he flashed. He reached out for the glass and prayed it wouldn't spill. It didn't. "Thanks for helping me just now." He was stalling. He didn't know how to explain it, but the plate placed before him just didn't seem appetizing at all.  _Nothing_ did. All he could hear was the sound of his heart thudding against his ribcage as his mind went into overdrive. This was how it'd always felt when he was close to obtaining a lost piece of himself. Clenching his teeth tightly, he gripped the table so hard his knuckles turned white.

 

Daniel stopped whatever he was saying and leaned in, resting a hand over his, worry knitting his eyebrows together.

 

"Jihoon, are you sure you're okay? I can get the doctor for you if that'll make you feel better."

 

"No, I just. I think this is a sign of my brain trying to cooperate with me by letting me remember something."

 

The older guy's easy grin returned full-blast and he pulled back, hand retreating as well. Jihoon almost reached out to hold it again on impulse, like it was natural for him to do that. Like it was something he'd done before. His eyes snapped up to meet Daniel's and he could tell there was something wrong.

 

 _No, not wrong_. A sense of eerie recognition began to rise in him, a feeling that he'd seen Daniel somewhere else before.  _Not wrong_ , he told himself with conviction,  _different._

 

_And different isn't bad, is it?_

 

He watched Daniel stuff a piece of his order into his mouth and felt a laugh bubbling in his throat.

 

 

 

 

 

**∞**

 

 

 

 

 

"-- so then that  _fucking asshole_ said, 'You should just scrap the whole thing. Looks too pretty to be modeled after you.' Like, can you fucking imagine the audacity to call me ugly? I can't deal with them all by myself. Jihoon, you gotta come back quick and kick their asses for me. We used to do it together all the time," Woojin was whining, holding onto Jihoon's arm and acting like a damsel in distress. The latter only scoffed and snatched his arm back, rolling his eyes at the younger boy's antics. "You and I were  _untouchable._ "

 

"I doubt that."

 

"You're no better than Daehwi," his best friend complained, sticking his tongue out.

 

"Sculpting class was shit, huh," Jihoon said, trying to hide his inner motives with faked nonchalance. "I heard from Minhyun that I was shit at sculpting."

 

Woojin barked a loud laugh and nodded. "Jihoon, honestly, I really love you but you were bad at  _everything_ besides drawing. And painting, I guess. Photography class is okay, but you always fall asleep during demonstrations and our teacher really hates you. And you're always assigned a seat at the back of the class when they have a model come in sometimes."

 

Jihoon sat up straighter and hoped that the change in his posture wasn't that obvious. This--  _this--_ was what he was looking for. Broken pieces of his old life coming back together. But he couldn't see the complete picture yet. He was  _far_ from restoring all his memories, of course, but he knew that there was something missing. Like there was no  _cohesion_ between all these separate pieces. Like he was missing something else...

 

"Why? Am I too good at it?"

 

" _You wish_. This teacher just happens to appreciate the peace and harmony we can get when Park Jihoon doesn't sit in front criticising every other student in the class just because he's a  _genius._ Don't get too cocky though-- it's just in  _one_ subject. They weren't kidding when they said you were hopeless at sculpting. They even tried to--" Woojin stopped himself short, the words he'd left unsaid hanging in the silence that ensued.

 

"They even... what?" Jihoon pressed on, leaning in earnestly, catching on to the fact that Woojin was about to let slip something important.

 

"They even nothing." Another laugh sounded from his friend, and this time it was paired with an unnatural knee slap like someone had made the joke of the century. "Trust me, the school wanted to do something about your countless failed projects, but our homeroom teacher sings such high praises of you, no one can get rid of you."

 

Tired. Jihoon was tired of this. Why was it so hard for them to tell the truth? He decided to just take the chance and fucking jump to his death.

 

"Who's Kang Daniel, really?"

 

The playfulness Woojin's eyes always held flickered for a moment as he hesitated to give Jihoon an answer. "Daniel, uh, he's our senior. Why?"

 

He tried to shrug it off, but it was clear that Woojin wasn't letting this go. And neither was he. "How's he like at school?"

 

"Nice. Weird." Woojin's answers were clipped like something was gnawing at his nerves, but it still wasn't enough to discourage Jihoon.

 

"Weird? But you just called him nice," he pointed out.

 

"I meant the  _weird_ kind of nice. Not necessarily the nice kind of weird."

 

"You're not making sense."

 

" _I am_ ," Woojin insisted immediately, maybe a little too quick. And a little too harshly. "Look, I'm-- why are you suddenly asking about him anyway? I don't think you guys have even met."

 

Jihoon's mouth curved into a frown. "We have. Just this morning. And considering the fact that he was supposed to be my mentor this summer, I find it pretty  _weird_ no one has brought him up at all."

 

"You  _met him?_ " When Jihoon gave him a solid nod of confirmation, Woojin's eyes widened even more. "Here? In your ward?"

 

" _Obviously not_. He says he's never met me either, but I feel something different around him. It's like my skin was tingling all over and my head was hurting. Like-- like he'd triggered a distant memory or something. Just felt...  _different_. That's the best way I can describe it. And he didn't seem weird at all, just nice.  _Really_ nice. He bought me breakfast too."

 

Woojin exhaled heavily and leaned back in his chair. "Don't know if this is a good idea, Jihoon. For you to become friends with Daniel or whatever this is supposed to be." Before Jihoon could cut in and say something in their senior's defense, Woojin held up a hand to interrupt. " _But_. Let me just say this: he's a strange guy pretty much  _no one_ knows anything about outside school matters and people  _do_ say he's different, but not in a good way. He'd book a studio at strange intervals of the day or at time slots when the school's deserted so he can have it all to himself and be stuck in this...  _bubble of silence_ or something. Studio 203 practically has his name on it by now-- he's the only one who uses it because there are all these creepy  rumors going around and everyone's too scared to go near it."

 

"What kind of rumors?" Jihoon knew that Woojin was trying to freak him out over small, disconnected details like these but if anything, he was only more interested that he had been before.

 

"That he dissects small animals he catches after school as a hobby." Woojin took one look at Jihoon's expression and chuckled. "Far-fetched, I know, but that's what they say and no has confirmed that there are no tiny decaying corpses hidden in the drawers so  _until then_ , I advise you to keep away from Daniel. But 203 is also the only studio with a piano in it and sometimes if you stay back at school for a while, you can hear him playing inside."

 

"That's--"

 

"I know you're about to say that it's cool, but it's not. It's literally  _creepy._ "

 

Jihoon reached for the glass of water next to him and took a small sip. "He sounds pretty talented. And you haven't talked to him before.  _I_ have."

 

"One conversation and he thinks he's a Kang Daniel expert now," the younger boy sighed. He suddenly pulled the sad-looking bag--  _his_ bag-- lying discarded on the floor onto his lap and shoved a hand inside. "I brought you something different today. I think you're going to like it. I mean, once you get home, there's going to be more, of course, but this has always been the one you were the proudest of. Thought you should take a look at it and see if it brings back anything." Jihoon tried to steal a peek at what was inside the oversized burlap sack Woojin referred to as his 'art bag', but the boy quickly hid it out of Jihoon's sight. "Guess."

 

Jihoon sighed, frustrated that Woojin had managed to successfully change the topic. If Jihoon asked more questions about Daniel, it'd spark Woojin's suspicion that something was going on between the both of them.

 

He should have known this wasn't going to be easy.

 

"I don't know, an old diary?"

 

"Uh, pretty close but not really."

 

"My porn collection?"

 

"Jesus fuck, you're as crude as you were before. Guess that's one thing you should've lost but didn't." Jihoon flashed him a sly smirk. He was really feeling  _great_ today. Almost hopeful that he'd be getting something back soon.  _But god knows how long 'soon' can mean_ , he reminded himself. With another roll of his eyes, Woojin revealed the thing in his hand bit by bit and even though Jihoon couldn't see it entirely yet, he could sense his curiosity peaking. It was thin and flat and… big.

 

He sucked in a breath when it dawned on him what it was. “Is that my…” Everyone had told him that art had been his life. And now it was right here in front of him.

 

“Your sketchbook, yeah,” Woojin whispered as he handed it over carefully like he was handling a baby. “I thought you might appreciate it.”

 

“And I do,” he promised, almost feeling pathetic for wanting to cry over something like this, “I really, _really_ appreciate it.” It felt surreal to have what was summed up as his  _life_ in his hands. He hadn't even considered the possibility of having sketchbooks to look back on and he didn't know why. The cover of the book was simple, all black with minimal personalization save for the name written in silver at the top right corner of it. When he flipped it open, he was first met with a drawing of the woods, breath taken away by how  _detailed_ and precise it was. And it felt like home, a sense of security and familiarity settling over him like a protective blanket. He could almost hear the birds chirping and the see sky bursting into flames as the day came to a close.

 

It felt like a  _memory_.

 

"That's the woods behind our neighborhood. We live pretty close to the edge of the town, but the forest isn't that dangerous or scary, really. Not that you need me to tell you that-- you were probably  _the_ person to hire if someone wanted a tour there. Not sure why they would want to, but you get the point. You knew the woods better than anyone else and you spend a lot of your time there drawing or... doing whatever it is you'd do," Woojin explained.

 

"For silence." The answer came back to him easily like it was another person speaking on his behalf. "I liked how quiet it was there."

 

Woojin's grin widened and he looked like he was about to pounce on Jihoon, arms and kisses and all. His head bobbed up and down vigorously in agreement. " _Yes_. And you  _love_ the outdoors. Even when you're at home, you'd open the windows and let the ' _natural light coat us golden'_ and stare out like you're filming a fucking music video. _"_

 

His heart was once again fired up, hesitation found in his shaking fingers as they thumbed the corner of the page, unsure of whether or not to flip it. He did. And it was of the woods yet again, this time from another angle. Like he drew this lying down on the dirt and mud-covered dead leaves, looking up at the sky through a canopy of trees with light filtering in through the gaps. "I must've really liked being there," Jihoon murmured wistfully, brushing his fingers over the page. "I think it's got something to do with how I hate lies."

 

When he looked up, Woojin was confused and staring at him like he was crazy, but it only earned him a light-hearted laugh from Jihoon. With every single flip of the pages, the image of the woods he'd adored so much came to life in full color and harmonies sang by birds and insects alike and--  _he was so happy_. He remembered how the soft forest floor felt beneath his sore feet after running for miles, how he preferred being out in the open with the warm afternoon light falling over him to the fluorescent lights with their low, annoying hum at school.

 

 _I_   _remember._

 

And those two words were more than enough.

 

But when he turned the page, he saw something different. There was a man with his back partially to him, holding an umbrella and shielding a shorter guy he recognized as himself. They were standing in the rain, and despite the umbrella, they both appeared to be soaked through but they were still laughing. Happy. The taller guy's face was turned away, but Jihoon just  _knew_ that they would both be sporting matching smiles if it had been drawn from a different angle. And it was just  _intense_ how he could feel the warmth and cold and simple contentment, pure bliss, radiating off the drawing. He wondered if anyone else could feel it, too, if they were looking at it. The background was blurred out like they were the only two people that mattered at that time.

 

"Who is this?" he asked, pointing to the man.

 

Woojin inched closer to take a look at the drawing. "No idea."

 

It felt like a fleeting moment of joy, especially when he turned another page and felt disappointment sinking into him. The next picture was a strange one. But it had his attention the second he saw it.

 

"A sculpture," he breathed in wonder. There were two bodies entwined, touching each other without ever meeting skin. The couple was embracing, and yet they were apart. They were touching, and yet they were not. It felt a lot like pain, like wanting something you never reached before the time was up. It felt like losing someone and Jihoon thought he must be going crazy to experience all of this from a mere drawing of a sculpture. It might be a draft, but he wasn't sure. And judging by the perplexed look on Woojin's face, he probably didn't know either.

 

He brought the book closer to his eyes as he inspected every inch of it, entranced by how different the sculpture was-- how  _raw_ it was. He couldn't help but feel pity blooming in his heart for the person who'd carved this. This  _art_ wasn't just something anyone could fashion with their hands, no matter how talented they work. It always took an immense amount of pain and love and sadness to create something like this, a piece of art that you've poured your everything into, so much that you'd feel hollow after it was done.

 

"I want this," he found himself saying. He looked at Woojin and repeated it again.

 

_I want this._

 

 

 

 

 

**∞**

 

 

 

 

 

Exactly a week after the day he got his sketchbook back, Jihoon found himself standing in front of studio 203's door. He'd just barely made it through his "first" day at school and both teachers and students looked at him weird all day. Like they couldn't believe he'd lost  _everything_. There were a few concerned 'how are you's but besides that, his school's entire population pretty much alternated between shooting him stares above the hum of whispers in hallways or walking by while pretending he didn't exist at all.

 

He wasn't sure what kind of student he'd been back then. Was he nice? Bad? Ignorant? He didn't seem to have many friends after all...

 

The sound of Daniel playing inside brought him back to the door before him. He didn't recognize the melody, but it floated in the air like grey clouds drizzling rain. Soft and steady and gentle like rain pit-pattering against window panes in evenings drained of color.

 

He held his breath and knocked. Almost right away, the sound of the piano came to an abrupt stop like Daniel was surprised. Jihoon almost felt regretful for not letting him finish the beautiful piece, but he'd promised his parents they could pick him up at four and it was already three thirty. He could feel anxiousness begin to creep under his skin, so he squeezed the bag in his hand to remind himself of why he was here.

 

As he was considering knocking a second time, the door opened and revealed a pissed-off looking Daniel.

 

 _Holy fuck_ , Jihoon panicked, _this is a bad idea._

 

"Hi," he greeted the older boy nervously, to which Daniel responded with a wary look. "Jihoon."

 

"Yeah, I remember."

 

"Great, uh, what are you doing here?" he asked, then winced halfway through the sentence.  _Bad question_. "I mean, um--"

 

"Working."

 

"Yeah, of course," Jihoon cleared his throat uncomfortably.

 

Daniel leaned against the doorframe like he was guarding something inside and folded his arms across his chest. Jihoon scanned his hand and noted that the boy's injured pinky was missing its cast. "What are you doing here? I think you're the first person to pay me a visit."

 

"I need your help," Jihoon blurted out. A skeptical raise of Daniel's eyebrow later, Jihoon found himself panicking and wanting to get the  _fuck_ out of there. But everyone he asked told him that Daniel was the man for anything sculpture related and  _really_ needed to see the one in his drawing. He could, of course, bother one of his teachers but none of them seemed eager to stay back and have a whole conversation _about a rock_ stretch for hours and take up their time. Thus, Daniel was clearly the only option.

 

 

A couple of minutes later, he realized that Daniel had just been standing there silently staring at him because he was _waiting_ for Jihoon to tell him what the fuck he wanted. And he had been idiotic enough to just stare back, mouth sewn shut with uneasiness. But he was _not_ scared.

 

Maybe a little.

 

Gulping, he reached into his bag and pulled out the book, flipping it to the drawing of the sculpture. The second it touched Daniel’s fingers, Jihoon felt a bucket of icy water had been dumped over him. Or maybe he was just breaking out in cold sweat—it was hard to tell.

 

It might have been his mistake in hearing, but he could’ve sworn he heard Daniel’s breath catch when he saw it, too.

 

“Do you… do you know it?” he found the courage to dare to ask a minute later. “I just. Woojin was showing me my old sketchbook and I saw this and I was just _so_ in love with it and I don’t even know why. I need to see it in real life. I need to feel it.”

 

“Wh-why do you like it so much?” By now, Daniel had already finished examining the drawing, but he still had it in his tight grip, looking at Jihoon with a steel-like resolve in his eyes.

 

“Because,”—Jihoon took his time searching for the right answer, but he didn’t have to try hard; there had only been one absolute reason in the first place—“I need to know their story. I want to know why one of them has a face twisted with agony, and yet the other has an expression of stone. I want to know why they’re spinning away from each other. I want to know if they ended up together. I want to know what the artist had gone through to create something so beautiful.”

 

“Why me?”

 

“They told me you were the right person to ask.” He watched how Daniel’s eyes raked over the drawing, how his gaze lingered on the lovers’ faces even when he was forcing himself to look elsewhere. “You know it, don’t you.”

 

The sketchbook was lowered to his side when Daniel let his hand down, using the other to hold the door open as he stepped aside for Jihoon.

 

He could hear his heart palpitating faster than a fucking race car. This was the studio no one had the balls to enter. And now here he was, standing at the entrance of the room as he tried to take _all of it_ in, as his brain barely registered the clicking of the door closing softly behind him. Daniel must be watching him right now, probably smiling at how his jaw was dropping to the floor.

 

This didn’t look like a studio any student could book and use. This was _Daniel’s_ and Daniel’s alone. The standard light blue walls were covered in newspaper clippings and all around him, Jihoon could see painting after painting hung up and displayed. And as he gravitated closer to the one right in his line of vision, he thought that it was a pity there was no one else here other than Daniel to see this. And himself now, he supposed.

 

“Can I—can I touch this?” he asked tentatively, fingers hovering over the painting, twitching like they couldn’t resist being in such close vicinity and yet not being able to touch something so gorgeous.

 

Jihoon had always found the night sky awe-inducing. Like the sunset was curtains pulling back to reveal a window of wonders we called our sky, only now it showed the universe beyond and _maybe_ pulled us a bit closer to what he believed to be the most beautiful art. And Daniel captured it perfectly with his fingers, his brush strokes. It was as though he’d taken a piece of the night sky and put it up on his wall to keep.

 

“I didn’t know you paint.”

 

“Only once in a while.” Daniel had his eyes trained on Jihoon, hands shoved deep into his pockets, the furrow between his eyebrows expressing something Jihoon couldn’t understand.

 

But he loved being here. It was the smell of oil paints splattered on new palettes, of Turpenoid and pine and new, untouched canvases and the scent of earth that clung to clay. It was the feeling of being surrounded by art. _Life_. Surrounded by life, brimming and breathing off the walls and on tables and pedestals.

 

When he turned around and looked closely at the back of the room, he noticed the legendary sculptures that had every teacher at their school in awe. Some were giant-sized, some were small. But he was shocked by how much each and every one of the pieces emanated sadness.

 

“It’s at the back.” When Jihoon turned to send Daniel a questioning look, the latter simply avoided eye contact, looking upwards instead.

 

“What’s at the—”

 

“Sculpture. The sculpture you asked about. It’s at the back. Last row, third one from the right.”

 

Jihoon tried not to think about how hostile Daniel sounded. No, not hostile. Not to that extent. It was just… _cold_ and detached. It was like he’d step out of the person he was at the hospital and zipped himself up in another skin, another personality. He wanted to ask Daniel how he’d gotten his hands on such an amazing piece, but he didn’t want to risk getting turned out so he only followed the older guy’s directions and hurried to the back of the room, eyes roaming over every exquisite piece and snuffing out his whims to hug them.

 

And then he found it.

 

It was the two men. And looking at it now dug a wound—or opened up an old one—in his heart. One of them was flinging himself away from his lover with an expression that gave away nothing, his body still and perfectly composed. The other—Jihoon sucked in his breath. The other man was the reflection of everything the calm man wasn’t. He was stuck in a whirlwind of hurt and confusion, crying and stretching towards his lover but never reaching, misery carved so evidently in his pain-stricken face as his other half was torn away from his arms.

 

“How do you have this?” He wanted to scream _I want this_.

 

Daniel snorted, turning Jihoon’s head sharply in his direction. “Because I made it,” he answered simply. Jihoon’s mouth fell into a perfect ‘ _o_ ’ as he gaped at Daniel while the latter gazed at him with a flat mix of indifference and amusement. “For my final project last year, the theme had something to do with love so I came up with this.”

 

“But this…” Jihoon’s words trailed off as he struggled to find his voice again, “this isn’t something you can just come up with. Artists speak from experiences.”

 

“I guess that’s true. Saying I ‘came up’ with it is a bit of a stretch, honestly,” the taller guy admitted, striding over to where Jihoon was standing with his hand suspended mid-air. Daniel’s fingers closed around his wrist gently and led him closer to the separated lovers, allowing Jihoon to touch his fingertips to the cool surface of the sad man’s face. “You can touch it. How I decided on making this is quite a long story.”

 

“I love long stories,” Jihoon assured him. “I want to know. How they came to be, what their lives were like, what is the reason behind their separation. I want to know everything.”

 

He heard the older guy laugh, if only for a short while, and his muscles tensed at the sudden warmth from Daniel’s hot breath hitting his ear. “Are you this in love with them?”

 

Jihoon gingerly maneuvered himself to stand between the sculpture and Daniel’s large frame before he looked up and nodded as seriously as he could. “It just feels so _raw_. Many artists choose to hide behind paintings completed with exaggerated colors, or lines and angles sharper than they should be in sculptures, or added details that supposedly help bring their drawings to life. But this isn’t like that. _Your_ work isn’t like that. It’s raw and more honest than maybe anything I’ve ever seen—which, obviously, you may not think of as much seeing as I just woke up literal weeks ago, but I just _know_ this is different.

 

“Because even our pain and sorrow could be beautiful in art, because those emotions are what makes us, _us_. It helps us see who we are, who we were, and where we’re heading to. And it’s like you’re them,” he marveled, fingers curling under the man’s chin. “It’s like your art makes you.”

 

"I can tell you three stories," Daniel said quietly after a pause. "Of  _one_ couple who promised to spend eternity together."

 

"Did they fall out of love?"

 

"No, I wish it was that simple. If the both of them just decided to break it off and forget each other forever. What could be more painful than finding out the future and dreams you'd built with who you thought was 'the one' were only exactly that, right? Just dreams and unrealistic hopes. What's more painful than that is only one of them forgetting. And the other remembers.  _Everything_. Every lifetime, every kiss, every 'I love you' whispered in tight embraces, only to realize his soulmate recognizes  _nothing_ about him. "

 

Jihoon shifted uncomfortably on his feet. Daniel was getting too close for comfort. The latter sighed, then took a big step back.

 

"What are you still doing here, really?"

 

"I-- I wanna know more. Three stories. All of them." Before Daniel could open his mouth to ask  _why_ , Jihoon started speaking again, "I want to put this down on paper, I want to draw them and make them remember."

 

Daniel pursed his lips tightly and went back to sit by the black piano at a corner of the room. "Come back tomorrow."

 

He couldn't stop the smile from reaching his eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

**∞**

 

 

 

 

 

Jihoon couldn’t hide his happiness the entire Tuesday morning, bouncing on his toes while a smile stretched from ear to ear. He could tell that Woojin noticed, but he was thankful the boy didn’t ask about it, backing off to give him some privacy and space. Woojin probably thought it was for Jihoon’s readjustment in school, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

 

When he knocked on Daniel’s studio this time, he heard a voice calling from inside, “The door’s not locked, just come in.”

 

Shyly, he twisted the knob and gently pushed it open, slowly revealing Daniel, who seemed to be dragging _the_ sculpture to the front and center of the room, underneath the brightest light bulb. The curtains were all pulled apart to reveal the afternoon sun beating down hard on the grey pavement outside and flooding in through the glass to cast a natural light on the lovers. It was as though they were basking in the sun.

 

“Hey,” Daniel greeted, shocking Jihoon with his _almost-_ shy smile, “welcome back, I guess. How was school?”

 

“Fine. Sculpting sucked. And we didn’t even do any sculpting today,” he complained as he unslung his bag from his shoulder to place it on the ground next to the easel.

 

Daniel scoffed as he dusted his hands and speckles of grey fell and stuck to the fabric of his smock. “Sculpting is _by far_ the most interesting class.”

 

“Especially when the teacher asks you to feel up a bunch of rocks for an hour? It was bordering on sexual assault on those poor rocks, I swear.”

 

“It’s for introduction purposes,” the older argued, “Just like how you’d picture a painting in your head before you realize it on a canvas, you have to touch a rock and feel its potential. What it could become. What’s inside it? What’s the story it’s telling you?”

 

Jihoon smiled and walked towards where Daniel was washing his hands. “I don’t speak rock.”

 

Daniel rolled his eyes, a playful smirk raising a corner of his doll-like mouth. “No wonder Mr. Kim says you’re hopeless.”

 

“I’m not _that_ bad,” he muttered under his breath. “I just like doing abstract art.”

 

“That’s why your clay never holds together and has—not _once—_ dried properly and you haven’t been allowed to move on to rock yet, sure.”

 

“There are like, four other people in my class who aren’t using rock too, thank you very much.”

 

“But at least their clay holds together reasonably well and their only problem is disinterest,” Daniel said, drying his hands using the piece of cloth hanging by the sink. Jihoon had no idea how long it had been there and he really didn’t want to. But as Daniel gestured to him to follow, Jihoon couldn’t help but notice how _languidly_ the older guy walked and talked (in stark contrast to his clipped remarks on the day before).

 

“Mr. Kim really tells you everything, huh.”

 

Pulling out an extra empty stool from under a table, Daniel dragged it to the front and arranged it next to the sculpture. Next to _his_ chair. When he was done with it, he stood up straighter and smiled lazily at Jihoon. “Mostly about you.”

 

 _My god_.

 

He could feel his cheeks turning red. He could fucking feel it—

 

Daniel didn’t look bothered at all, that fucker. If anything, he was amused by Jihoon’s immediate reaction.

 

Hurriedly, he sat himself down on the stool and very nearly lost balance and fell off face-first. He recovered quickly and hoped Daniel wouldn’t remember it in the next minute. When he took the chance to send Daniel a quick glance, he noticed how the latter’s expression had once again changed drastically. He wasn’t even paying attention to Jihoon’s stupidity.

 

His eyes were burning with the kind of intensity that made you want to look away, made you feel like you were intruding on something private. Something personal. He only had his eyes riveted on the lovers, staring at them with regret like they could’ve have been something else.

 

So Jihoon sat and watched. He watched the joy that had previously been so _alive_ in Daniel’s eyes wither away into rage and desperation like his sanity was crumbling around him. For a seventeen year old to feel an emotion this heavy with untold stories and truths wound into lies was—impossible. There was a shout behind that gaze. There was disappointment forcing his hands to ball up into fists. There was sadness tugging at the corners of his mouth.

 

So Jihoon sat and watched Daniel, entranced as though he was witnessing the story unfold before him in the form of one, very broken, boy.

 

 

 

 

 

**∞**

 

 

 

 

 

“Do you know the story of Orpheus and Eurydice?” Jihoon slowly shook his head. “It’s a… Greek mythology. Orpheus was a musician, a poet, a singer. He played the most beautiful melodies on his lyre, and no one could resist it. Not enemies or horrifying beasts. Even trees grew and flowers bloomed at the sound of his voice singing.

 

“And then he fell in love. With the most beautiful person he’d ever laid eyes on—Eurydice, who was one of the wood nymphs. She was charming, graceful, intelligent. They were set to have the most well-matched wedding anyone had ever heard of. And on the day they were going to wed, Orpheus stood under an arch interwoven with the purest and brightest of flowers, waiting for his bride to arrive. And she did. But as she made her way down the aisle, she suddenly collapsed, and the snake that’d bitten her and ended her life short slithered away immediately after, never to be found again.”

 

Jihoon’s heart dropped. “She died?”

 

“Yes,” Daniel exhaled like it pained him to breathe at a moment like this.

 

“Is that the story?”

 

“No. After her death, Orpheus mourned day and light and sang his grief with such sincerity that he moved mountains and touched everyone—both mortal and not. The gods finally took pity on him after some time and decided to gift him with one chance. He could go down to the underworld to meet Eurydice and try whatever he could to bring her back. Only, no one has ever gone to the underworld and came back alive. Much less after trying to barter a deal. But Orpheus, knowing that being able to enjoy a long life would be meaningless without his wife by his side, agreed to the idea eagerly even if it would mean his life would be put at risk.

 

“When he descended to Hades, and walked amongst ghosts and the wandering souls of people who were once human, he encountered Cerberus, who he even managed to calm enough to let him pass. When he was met with Hades and his wife, Persephone, Orpheus knelt down and played his lyre and sang a song that stilled the entire Underworld. Everyone stopped and quieted down just to hear him speak his sorrow through the language he was most fluent in, and that was what managed to melt Hades’ cold heart enough to grant him his only wish. But on one condition.”

 

Daniel raised his fingers carefully to embrace the stone-faced man’s skin.

 

“As he climbed the mountain to return to the land of the living, Eurydice would follow closely behind him. And yet, for the journey, Orpheus was not to turn around to check if Eurydice was behind him until the moment both of them had taken their first steps onto solid land, into the light. It was hard for him to resist the temptation to see his wife again after such a long time since their sudden separation, but he managed to hold in the urge—at first. Halfway up the mountain, Orpheus noticed the lack of sound of footsteps behind him, and that was when he started getting anxious, worried if the gods have cheated him and his wife was still stuck below, locked in the cages of Hades and this time, for good. He held on to his faith to the gods until the last few steps, when his instincts told him to turn and look, and he finally fell for the bait. When he turned around, what he saw was Eurydice’s shadow getting snatched back into the arms of hell.”

 

“That’s… I’m sorry,” Jihoon found himself saying. It was the kind of sorry that you said to people who’d lost something dear to them. He couldn’t see how Daniel could’ve known Orpheus and Eurydice, but maybe it had been someone else he was in love with, someone who had been taken away forcefully the way Eurydice was torn out of the beautiful picture Orpheus had painted for them. He bit his lip, sucking on his bottom lip nervously as Daniel looked at him like he was figuring out what to say next.

 

Then he slowly turned his focus elsewhere. And the sunlight fell so perfectly on his profile, Jihoon felt a mad urge to pull out his sketchbook and make a drawing of this to capture this moment forever. Daniel’s eyelashes were brown in the light and his mouth was a shade in between dark red and cherry pink. His mind was bursting with useless Kang Daniel trivia that he didn’t even know why he kept track of.

 

“It doesn’t end there either. In many versions of the story, you’ll find that Orpheus ends up getting killed and he falls in place next to Eurydice at last, walking the river of Styx together while he looks back at her however much he likes. For it doesn’t matter where they are as long as they have each other. It’s not true,” Daniel said it like it was a statement, not an opinion, not an invitation for a discussion, _no_. He said it with such conviction that Jihoon was tempted to ask if Daniel _knew_ for a fact that whatever people were writing down in books and records, was untrue. “Orpheus doesn’t die—the gods thought that the worst punishment for impatience was to wait out an entire lifetime before he could reunite with Eurydice again. And even then, he’d be cursed in a way that he’d have to remember everything—”

 

“While Eurydice doesn’t,” Jihoon finished for him. This was what Daniel had been talking about the day before.

 

The smile Daniel had on was bitter. “It was a mistake that cost him his happiness. Every single time they reincarnated, he’d have to suffer the consequences.”

 

“But is it painful?” His fingers played with the hem of his sweater when he asked the question hesitantly, not knowing what reaction he should expect from Daniel. When he realized that Daniel wasn’t speaking only because he was waiting for Jihoon to further explain what he meant, he decided to continue, “I mean, I think witnessing the moment the person you love realize they’re starting to return your feelings and they can no longer see past you… I think that’s very beautiful. And to have that happen to you repeatedly, isn’t that counted as a miracle? A verification to the fact that no matter who you are in this lifetime or the next, they’ll still fall in love with you because at the end, no matter what, you still belong together?”

 

Daniel’s eyes fluttered shut, the rich brown of his eyes momentarily shielded by his lashes—and only then did Jihoon realize how puppy-like they were. By the time they opened again, Jihoon was still unprepared for how intense his gaze had always been. It was a stare that communicated his pain, and while most people who were hurting wished to forget and move on, Daniel appeared to be holding on.

 

“You’re not wrong,” Daniel mused. His eyes flickered back to the figure Jihoon assumed was supposed to be Eurydice. “But I guess it’s my fault for harboring too much hope. Because sometimes, I just wish that I was important enough for them to remember me, even if everyone else has become strangers.”

 

 

 

 

 

**∞**

 

 

 

 

 

Those words had left Jihoon restless as soon as Daniel had said them. He knew he shouldn’t be reading too much into it, but he couldn’t help thinking that it was _intentionally_ directed at him. That Daniel was desperate to make him remember something— _what?_

 

He’d made it sound like they’d known each other before Jihoon lost his memories, before the accident, before everyone around him started hiding things and sweeping truths under the rug like Jihoon was stupid enough to _not notice_. A sigh rose in his throat and he decided to let it out, and it was resigned and weary, soft and barely audible. But his parents had heard it. He could tell because he saw the way his father gripped the steering wheel tighter and his mum shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat, almost like she was debating whether to turn around and ask what was wrong or grant him some space to work it out on his own.

 

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” she’d finally decided on saying. _Seems like the motherly side has won after all_ , he lamented to himself. “You can tell us if anything is wrong, you know.”

 

“I know,” Jihoon answered as sweetly as he could—always the kind boy, the perfect son, the best student: everything they were trying to make him be. It was as though now that he’d forgotten everything and was considered a “clean slate”, they thought it was the perfect chance to finally mold him into a completely different person. “Thanks for the concern, mum. I’m just—tired. It’s weird to be back.”

 

His mother hummed like she understood what he felt and his dad grunted in response. _Good_. They seemed to be satisfied with his answer.

 

As she started droning on and on about all their _options_ and what they could do to make Jihoon resettle in school as comfortably as possible, he tuned out and made sure to nod and smile at the right times, all the while thinking of Daniel and the new problem he’d added to the Jihoon’s growing list.

 

The weekend before school started for him again, his parents had warned him about staying away from certain people. Freaks, students who did drugs and underage drinking, etc. He couldn’t help but wonder how Daniel didn’t fit into any of the categories they’d mention. How he didn’t fit into _any_ category (parents-approved or not). Daniel was just different.

 

His parents didn’t warn him about brown eyes and moles scattered on sunlit skin and words that could animate stories and bring sculptures to life.

 

No one did.

 

 

 

 

 

**∞**

 

 

 

 

 

He didn’t see Daniel on Wednesday. And Thursday. He tried visiting studio 203 on both days as well, but the door was locked and there was no forcing it open unless he wanted to alert the librarian on duty.

 

Their school had two libraries in the art wing. One was the library most people visited to study in peace while others came to date, and the second “library” was actually larger with more rooms and space for students to book studios to complete their work or flesh out their inspired ideas after school hours. The best part about this place, apart from its beautiful architecture, was the opening hours. The school allowed students to stay here till eleven thirty on weekends while the closing time was set an hour earlier on weekdays.

 

 _Anyone_ borrowing a studio key had to check with the librarian first and write down their details. Which was why Jihoon had chosen this place to see if Daniel had really been absent lately.

 

A bit stalker-ish? Definitely. But he was doing this for a reason ( _reasons)_.

 

He told himself it was because of the sketchbook. He’d forgotten to take it back from Daniel the last time they’d met and he _really needed it._ And maybe he just didn’t feel good about Daniel having it in possession. The rest of the sketchbook was really personal to him and he hoped that Daniel had the integrity and was gentlemanly enough to _not_ look through it. He was starting to see why people thought he was weird.

 

After lying to his parents that he had an assignment in sculpting class he needed to receive a _decent_ grade on, they finally relented and allowed him to return to school at five o’ clock to use the studios. He figured if Daniel was really trying to avoid him (and if he wasn’t just being paranoid), the older guy would come by in the evening or at night to visit his beloved pieces. At least once.

 

Hopefully today. It _had_ to be today.

 

If he didn’t have the sketchbook in his hands by the time his parents had arrived to pick him up, he was going to have another episode of panic attacks. He was sure of it. _Ohmygod_.

 

“Good evening,” he said politely to the lady behind the counter, “Is studio 203 available?” She looked up from whatever she’d been engrossed in on the screen of her macbook and peered carefully at Jihoon, glasses perched low on the bridge of her nose. It was a whole cliché, really. Even her hair was pulled back into a neat bun high on her head. It took a long time for her to respond and it was probably because she was trying to figure out _why_ someone who wasn’t Daniel trying to book that specific room.

 

His heart dropped when she turned around in her swivel chair to pluck a set of keys from its place on the wall behind her. _He’s not here_.

 

“Write your name down and the time too. Fill in all the blanks there, and you’re good to go,” she told him with a lingering look before she returned to her desktop. He did as he was told, hoisted his bag further up his shoulder and walked up the stairs.

 

It felt wrong. It felt off to insert the key and twist it and be the first person to step into the room in (probably) two days.

 

The smell of clay permeated the air and filled his nostrils as soon as he entered. The room looked just as it did when Jihoon left. The sculpture looked weird just sitting in the middle of the room, two lovers frozen in time. It looked like it was trying to tell him something he couldn’t understand.

 

He walked closer to it, throwing his bag onto the floor carelessly with a resounding thud. He’d never noticed this before but the room was so _quiet_ without Daniel around—even though the older wasn’t much of a talker. He didn’t make much noise either. It was just—it was like the room would only wake up for him and no one else.

 

Jihoon held in his breath as he examined the lovers up close again. Which one of them was in more pain? The one who struggled to remember what he would’ve loved to have forever, or the one who had their story etched in mind for the rest of eternity?

 

He didn’t have a definite answer, but he was leaning more towards the one who had to forget. He knew how lost and lonely it felt like to not remember. _And I still don’t_ , he reminded himself.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

A gasp escaped his throat as he whipped around, one hand over his pounding heart and the other holding the back of a chair for support. Daniel was standing at the doorway looking around the room like he was checking to see if Jihoon had touched anything of his. His eyes found their way back to Jihoon’s wide ones when he deemed the room’s condition satisfactory.

 

“Have you been coming here since Wednesday?”

 

Jihoon opened his mouth to speak but only an embarrassing mess of words spilled from his tongue. “No, I—I thought you might be here today, so I came.”

 

Daniel smiled and lifted his hand to thrust something at Jihoon, something the latter hadn’t even realized Daniel was holding. _His sketchbook_. He pulled it away from Daniel’s clutch easily enough, then he held it to his chest protectively.

 

“Don’t worry, I didn’t look through the rest of it. I wasn’t sure if you’d like that,” he said, looking at Jihoon, “Looks like I made the right choice.”

 

He hadn’t known Daniel for a very long time, but Jihoon didn’t think he was the kind of person who would lie. He wouldn’t exactly say he _trusted_ Daniel either, but for something like this… he could do as much.

 

“Where,” Jihoon’s voice faltered as he wondered if this was a good idea, “where have you been?”

 

Daniel lowered his head to hide a smile as though he couldn’t hold back his happiness. “I’ve been… busy moving back in with my mum.” He saw the confused look on Jihoon’s face and shrugged. “My parents are divorced. Or, in the middle of a divorce. I’ve been living with my dad since summer started. This arrangement with my mum is only temporary really, but it’s still better than nothing. My dad’s not exactly the nicest guy.”

 

That piqued his interest, but Jihoon decided not to ruin Daniel’s mood by prying further into something the older guy might be unwilling to open up about.

 

“Are you going home now?” Daniel suddenly asked.

 

Jihoon shook his head slowly. “I don’t know.”

 

A chuckle sounded from Daniel and Jihoon did a double take. He couldn’t seem to figure out this guy no matter how hard he tried. His emotions changed faster than a girl on her period and Jihoon literally had _no idea_ what to expect next.

 

“I mean, if you are, let me walk you back. I have something to show you.”

 

Jihoon raised an eyebrow, a smile rising to his lips. “Did you just invite yourself over? I’m not going to let you in just because you’re a senior, you know.”

 

Daniel gestured to the entirety of the room and it took Jihoon a while to see what he meant. “Hey, this doesn’t count, okay?” Jihoon laughed, “It’s a free studio in our school. The lady at the counter just happened to give this one’s key to me.”

 

“Yeah, I guess that’s why when I came she told me some shady guy requested _specifically_ for my room and told me to check it out.”

 

“Is she allowed to give away private and confidential information like that?”

 

“I practically own this room after all.” They both turned to look at the rows of sculptures arranged at the back, how they all shone speckless clean in the light. Daniel really took care of his art, he could tell. When Jihoon’s gaze returned to Daniel again, the older guy signaled to him to get out with a slight quirk of his head and a wide, stupid grin on his face.

 

Jihoon just couldn’t resist.

 

 _Fuck it_.

 

 

 

 

 

**∞**

 

 

 

 

 

He texted his parents saying that they didn’t have to pick him up anymore, which, surprisingly, they were okay with after hearing that someone from school was going to walk him home.

 

They kept to the sidewalk and right after they left school compound, Daniel silently wedged himself between the road and Jihoon and walked on quietly with a smile on his face.

 

“Okay, this is getting creepy,” Jihoon blurted out after telling Daniel where his neighborhood was and receiving no response.

 

“What, does this road look unfamiliar to you?” Daniel pointed to the huge, flickering McDonald’s sign they were walking under.

 

“ _No_ ,” the younger boy said, exasperated, “but like, you could be doing this to get my address then decide to drop by at midnight to ax-murder me and my family or something, _I don’t know_.”

 

Daniel shoved both hands into the pockets of his jacket and stopped in his tracks to turn and look at Jihoon, appearing to be mildly entertained by Jihoon’s wild imagination. “You really have a flair for the dramatic, don’t you?”

 

Jihoon’s eyes roved skywards and sighed, stamping down on the leaves and feeling this inexplicable sense of pleasure when he heard the sound of autumn leaves breaking and crackling beneath his steps. He did this sometimes to calm himself down—these small, small things that no one else paid attention to. “What is it that you want to show me, anyway.”

 

“I’m not sure if I want to show you now, I think you’ll jump to a conclusion too quickly,” the older guy considered, “and accuse me of something I’m not.”

 

“Well, it’s not my fault you’re weird,” Jihoon muttered.

 

“Am I?” he challenged. “Or are people just weird for not understanding me?”

 

“No, it’s just that people think you’re not… necessarily _fun_.”

 

Daniel’s eyebrows furrowed, mouth twisting like he was taken aback. “I _do_ have fun,” he argued. “All the time.”

 

“Do you even know what’s fun?”

 

“I can’t believe we’re going to argue about what’s fun in front of fucking McDonald’s.”

 

“No, like, _focus_. Do you _know_ what’s the meaning of fun? It’s when you do stupid stuff that makes your heart beat faster and laugh your fucking pants off in the moment, then regret it afterwards.”

 

Daniel rolled his eyes. “I don’t have to do stupid things to make my heart palpitate. Art is fun. I do art almost every day.”

 

“Well, does it make you laugh?”

 

“No, it makes me cry.” He paused. “Sometimes.”

 

“You think doing something that makes you _cry_ is fun,” Jihoon deadpanned. Oh my god,” he exhaled, then thought about it for a while. An idea was starting to form in his mind and he wasn’t sure if it was safe or not, but what harm could Daniel do, really? “Come on,” he hurried Daniel as he resumed walking again, pace quickening with every second, the excitement building in him and egging him on.

 

“ _Where_ are we going?”

 

“My house.”

 

“Why do we have to be quick about it?”

 

“So we can watch the whole thing happen.”

 

Jihoon _swore_ his heart stopped when he felt a warm hand wrap around his wrist and pull him to a stop. “Watch what?” Daniel looked like a kid when he asked that. Like he was scared, almost.

 

He was glad he wasn’t the only one.

 

“Watch a miracle happen.”

 

 

 

 

 

**∞**

 

 

 

 

 

Jihoon’s family wasn’t rich per se. They were average, maybe. It made him wonder just how much his parents have been struggling with the bills since he landed himself in the hospital—which, to this day, he still didn’t know _how_. He’d managed to gather a few more pieces of information, but what _really_ went down that day remained unclear.

 

As for his other memories, things weren’t as bad as they were before, but he still felt _empty_. Sometimes, his parents would catch him doing something he used to do out of habit before and shed tears over it. Once in a while, he’d reach into the fridge for a snack and get hit with a déjà vu.

 

He didn’t think getting back memories would be like… _this_. This abrupt and random.

 

When he opened the front door and shouted to his parents that he was back, he only heard his mum responding from the kitchen. They both removed their shoes and jackets and although he’d found it weird that Daniel knew exactly where to put them, he said nothing about it.

 

“Hey,” he called to his mum, “I brought my friend over, if that’s okay.”

 

His mum came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron while muttering something unintelligible. When her hands were dry and she looked at Daniel, her smile widened “Hey sweetheart,” she greeted Jihoon slowly, her eyes still on Daniel. “Daniel, come here.”

 

The older guy matched her happiness and went forward to hug her.

 

 _What the fuck_?

 

“You guys know each other?” he very nearly screeched, to which his mother chided him for with a few disappointed tuts. “You never told me!”

 

“Of course I know him—he lives with his mother across the street. That is, up until a few months ago,” she said, voice laced with sadness. Jihoon could tell by the pity in her frown that she probably knew more about Daniel’s family’s situation than he did, and for some reason that annoyed him.

 

“No, I’ve moved back now. For the time being.”

 

“Ah,” she hummed, a gentle smile playing on her lips, “that’s good to know. Is your mum doing okay?”

 

“Great, actually.”

 

“ _Mum_ ,” Jihoon whined. He didn’t like how this was playing out. At all.

 

It was completely _unfair_ how her face changed right away as soon as she turned to look at Jihoon. “Okay, Jihoon, you guys can go play upstairs. Is Daniel staying for dinner?”

 

“Only if I’m not being a nuisance here,” Daniel said.

 

“Not at all,” Mrs. Park exclaimed, “Please bring some back for your mum, too.”

 

“I will,” he promised, trailing after Jihoon who was already stomping up the staircase—which he was _definitely_ getting in trouble for later on. “We’re going to your room?”

 

“ _Obviously,”_ Jihoon said through gritted teeth, “seeing as you live just right across the street, your house should have the same layout as mine.”

 

Daniel laughed light heartedly. “You’re angry?”

 

“ _No_.” He opened his room door and gestured for Daniel to close it behind him. “Just. Shocked. Yet another part of my past that no one bothered to tell me about. It’s just… disconcerting how people get to decide how my life goes on now because I can’t remember who I used to be. Sorry about the mess, by the way.” It almost managed to crack him up—how Daniel was having a hard time trying to not tread on his dirty laundry. “I was supposed to take everything down today.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“Laziness. My tendency to procrastinate.”

 

Jihoon’s gaze followed Daniel, who had taken it upon himself to stare at every inch of his room with a mix of skepticism, disgust, and pity. “I’m supposed to believe a miracle can happen _here?”_

 

“No. Because we’re going up.”

 

“Then what’s the point of getting in?”

 

“Not out. _Up_.” Jihoon, who had made himself comfortable on the window seat, unlatched the window and pushed it up and locked it in place, making a hole wide enough for the both of them to fit through. (Mainly Daniel was the problem. Daniel and his wide shoulders).

 

“We’re going to the roof?” Daniel quickly deduced.

 

The younger boy nodded enthusiastically. “My favorite place to be, honestly. It’s beautiful up there. Though I’m assuming you know how pretty the view is already. You probably remember it more than I do.”

 

“And this is your idea of fun? Watching the sky turn orange?”

 

“Watching the sky turn orange _then_ black,” he corrected.

 

Daniel looked like he was considering calling this a stupid idea and leaving, but he could tell that there was no point sparking another argument about what was fun and what wasn’t, so he shut up and followed closely behind as Jihoon climbed out the window nimbly after grabbing a pile of what looked like blankets with him.

 

The “ _roof”_ was actually just a flat surface which served as a cover for their porch. Jihoon’s parents told him that they’d considered putting up a fence around its edges for quite some time now so that they could finally call it a balcony, but Jihoon always stopped them each time they brought it up until they gave up on trying. On the first day he was discharged, he’d actually attempted to climb out experimentally to watch the night sky up close, only to find that he liked the view and kept returning to the spot day after day, sometimes even doing homework there when his room was getting too stuffy in the afternoon.

 

When they’d settled down comfortably, leaning against the wall with layers of blanket clasped around their bodies to protect themselves from the brisk bite of the autumn breeze, Daniel tried searching for whatever had caught Jihoon’s attention in the sky, only to find that there was basically _nothing_.

 

“What are we waiting for again?”

 

“It starts after sunset,” the boy replied calmly. “I can’t tell you how it looks like because it’s different for everyone, I think. Some can’t even see it, but I think you would. I think you’ll really like it.”

 

Daniel’s forehead crinkled as he squinted his eyes against the bright blue of the sky.

 

“You know what Mr. Kim says about sculpting a person?”

 

“He says a lot about sculpting. And I’m surprised you even pay attention in his class.”

 

“Happened to walk in at the right time,” he laughed, “I was late. Anyway, he says that… he says that there are invisible lines on a person’s face. It’s like the lines of someone’s lips. The fine seams where the lips start are the hardest to distinguish because they’re barely there. But if you pay enough attention and watch it for a longer time, you start noticing things you’ve never seen before. That’s what the transition between sunsets dying and nights taking over is like. It happens so fast you’re left too confused to appreciate its beauty. But there’s a good kind of confused, you know? The kind that makes your head spin and your palms sweaty and senses tingling.”

 

“Like love,” Daniel summarized, already staring at the sky.

 

“Sure,” Jihoon agreed, tearing his eyes away from the boy’s stunning profile, “like love.”

 

 

 

 

 

**∞**

 

 

 

 

 

A carnival of colors. That was what sunsets were like in Jihoon’s eyes. They lasted for a short while, then slowly ebb away into darker, deeper tones that blend in the sky the way coloring would spread in a glass of water. But there was a fine line in between where the orange-pink would meet the greys and blues and it was a sight that always too Jihoon’s breath away. It was the moment that anyone who knew him would be able to tell how his eyes smile and his breathing deepen just a little.

 

He wondered if they were two living souls cursed so that they could only meet for seconds every day, and only if the sky was clear. And watching two lovers who were separated reunite again was always a miracle. It was a beautiful scene.

 

And today, he decided to watch Daniel witness the miracle instead.

 

“The clouds are like cotton candy.”

 

“They’re really pretty,” Jihoon smiled.

 

“They’re an overused cliché in romance novels.”

 

“Falling in love is also a cliché in romance novels.”

 

“But falling in love is the _main point_ of romance novels, that doesn’t count technically.”

 

Jihoon wrapped the blankets around him tighter as he shot a glare at Daniel. “Falling in love is the main point of _everything_. It’s the main point of life. And if you’re going to call something as normal as this,”—he gestured to the clouds— “a cliché, then you’re going to have to label falling in love as one, too.”

 

“Right. _Is_ falling in love the main point of life though?”

 

“What else would be?” he snorted. “We grow up and fall in love with things, activities, hobbies, _people_. We do the things we do because we’re all in love with something or someone in our lives—it’s what keeps us afloat. I love drawing and skies and those are what get me through my days and the worst of my panic attacks. You love sculpting.”

 

“You’re saying love is our coping mechanism?”

 

“I know it’s mine.”

 

Daniel made a sound from the back of his throat. Jihoon wasn’t clear on what it was supposed to mean, but they were both quiet now, waiting for _it_ to happen.

 

He could vaguely remember drawing at a time like this. During sunset, when everything had an orange glow to them and Jihoon didn’t have to lie to make his paintings pretty. Everything looked scenic in the light of sunset. Even heartbreaks and tears and broken boys.

 

 _Especially_ heartbreaks and tears and broken boys.

 

“That’s it,” he whispered, more to himself than to Daniel, but he could tell that the latter sat up straighter in attempt to not miss out on the moment. “ _There_.”

 

The mauve-dyed clouds were all edged in light, if only for a few seconds, before the dusky sky fell away with the setting star—the biggest one mankind had ever seen—and paving the way for a million more. The color deepened continuously and Jihoon felt his heart swelling.

 

Swelling at the sight of Daniel immersed and enraptured by the star-speckled spectacle laid out at their feet. The line had disappeared, but Daniel remained captivated by how living the sky was, mutable and changing.

 

There was a saying Jihoon had heard somewhere before: “Just because you’re breathing doesn’t mean you’re living.”

 

And even while we were walking on a thin line between being just alive and _truly living_ , the fact that we could sometimes stop and savor the beauty of moments like these was a miracle itself.

 

“I think you just convinced me. This is pretty fun,” Daniel admitted grudgingly, not taking his eyes off the view.

 

“You have a painting of the sky in your studio. You must’ve already had an idea of how beautiful this is, right?”

 

“No,” he said with a shake of his head and a hint of regret, “someone I knew _loved_ the sky. He made me paint that without looking up a picture or just any kind of reference. I did that entire painting based on his description and my memory of the sky—which, I assure you, isn’t much. That’s the only way I paint—it usually isn’t my sort of thing, but if I absolutely have to, it’s with him by my side, guiding me through the whole process with his words and melodies.”

 

“He sounds amazing.”

 

Unexpectedly, Daniel barked a laughter and ducked his head under his blankets, his entire body shaking while he tried to hold in the noise. “Yeah, I guess you could say he is. Quite a narcissist, though. And extremely stubborn.”

 

“Does he go to our school?”

 

Daniel appeared to think about it for a moment before he delivered a rather disappointing answer: “I can’t tell you.”

 

“How long have you guys known each other?”

 

“Hard to say—it has just been a _really_ long time.”

 

“Were you guys in love?”

 

The older guy’s breath hitched. He looked over to where Jihoon was all bundled up under the thick wool layers, staring at him expectantly. “Yes. Yeah, we were.”

 

“Are you guys still in love?”

 

Daniel’s smile reappeared, though this time it was a little sad and wistful, planting a bittersweet taste in Jihoon’s mouth.

 

“Again, it’s hard to say, really. I know I’m still in love with him, but I don’t know how he feels about me. About us. It has been months since we last talked about what’s happening. Before we were together, we were friends. And he didn’t exactly want to risk our friendship for something that might not last. His words, not mine. He told me he wanted to be in love with someone else.”

 

“And did he?”

 

“Did he… what?”

 

Jihoon swallowed the bitter pill in his throat. “Did he fall for someone else?”

 

The older guy sighed and unwound a loose thread from the hem of the topmost blanket that covered his big frame. “That’s not something I know for sure either. All I know is that he _did_ get someone else who truly loved him, and I thought that was such a messed up thing to do th—that we got into a big, stupid fight over it…”

 

“And then what happened?”

 

“And then a lot of things happened.”

 

A tiny giggle drew Daniel’s attention to the younger boy. He cocked his head like he was asking ‘ _what’_ , which elicited another snicker from Jihoon. “It’s just cute how you talk like you’re beyond your age.”

 

“ _I do not_.”

 

“You’re a high school senior! Everyone’s busy trying to do the things they can’t anymore once they officially grow up. Things only teenagers can do.”

 

“Like what?” Daniel stretched both his arms forward towards the sky. The night sky was always closer to us than the day was. He didn’t know why, but he’d always thought about it that way. Something about nights just made it seem like impossibilities didn’t exist.

 

“Like, make stupid mistakes and laugh about it afterwards.”

 

“That’s _exactly_ how you described fun. Are you saying only teenagers can have fun?”

 

He coupled the groan he sounded with a roll of his eyes. “You missed the point entirely. But it’s just—I’m aware that not _all_ seniors have to enjoy high school, but most people I know are rushing to get everything they’ve wanted on their wish list checked before they graduate.”

 

“That’s not me. I’m not most people, if you haven’t noticed.”

 

“But don’t you want to do _teenager things_ at all?”

 

“I’ve made mistakes before and the consequences haven’t really been that light or happy.”

 

“I meant _teenager-_ type of mistakes!” He noticed that Daniel was slowly sliding himself closer to Jihoon and _there—_ he felt it again. It was crazy how these tiny things and mindless actions Daniel did could turn him into a panicked fangirl. Daniel’s back was hunched over, his focus now solely on Jihoon, lips pushed into a pout. He was looking _expectant_. So Jihoon cleared his throat and closed his eyes, pretending to think about it for a moment. “Like… kissing in the rain.”

 

He could almost hear Daniel’s features arranging themselves into an expression of confusion. “Kissing in the rain?”

 

“Yeah, that’s a stupid thing to do. Chances are, you’ll catch a cold afterwards. And die. Of pneumonia.” Daniel’s attention was suddenly stolen by the sight of the moon climbing out from behind a dense, grey cloud and Jihoon didn’t like how it felt like rejection. He wanted to grab the sculptor’s hand and yell in his face to be the _only_ thing he was seeing. “ _Or_ have a rendezvous at four in the morning. Cause you could… you could be using that time to sleep.”

 

“That sounds like something you’d do.”

_Why does he always say things like that?_

 

Jihoon was afraid. Scared that the next question he asked was going to make them revert to who they were before. He couldn’t say that they were close friends now, but he could feel Daniel opening up to him. He didn’t want the boy to trap himself back in his shell. But this was something he _had_ to know.

 

“Daniel, can I ask you something? You have to answer honestly.”

 

Casting a long side look at him, Daniel nodded silently. “No follow up questions.”

 

“Have we known each other? Before the accident?”

 

Daniel was so close to him, Jihoon could feel the boy’s warmth bleeding through the thick wall of blankets between them. “Yeah, we did,” Daniel said, the last two words diminishing into nothing but whispers.

 

“No follow up questions.”

 

“No follow up questions,” Daniel swallowed. “Can I tell you something else?”

 

“Yeah,” he replied absentmindedly, still reeling from this newly obtained piece of information. He’d known Daniel. And whatever their connection had been like, it must’ve been strong, because out of all the people who’d visited him after he woke up, Daniel was the one who left the strongest impression behind. He was the one Jihoon thought could help him unlock this trunk of memories he didn’t have the key to. But he was also worrying if everyone had been trying to hide his past for a good reason.

 

“I promised to tell you three stories—I’ve only told you one of them.”

 

“You’re about to tell me a story,”—Jihoon scoffed—“after revealing this _huge_ thing from my past people have somehow neglected to say or lied about, and while we’re watching the stars?”

 

He couldn’t decide if he liked it.

 

“Daniel’s first step to making stupid teenager moves,” he mumbled with a smile on his face as he fumbled with the loose thread, wrapping it around his finger tightly. “You up for it?”

 

“Yeah.” If this was going to keep Daniel around for a longer time, then—“Sure.”

 

“Okay. Hold on.”

 

“Is it another story that’s going to leave me devastated?”

 

“Hopefully.”

 

“You’re an asshole.”

 

“Just another cliché to have at least _one_ asshole who has a problematic family background and loves hurting people with his sad tales in the story of your life.”

 

Jihoon squeezed his eyes shut. He was going to regret this. “And what genre is this story?”

 

They both looked at each other. Daniel’s eyes were alive, _so alive_. “We’ll see.”

 

 

 

 

 

**∞**

 

 

 

 

 

“So,” Jihoon started to say, nudging Daniel with his shoulder playfully, “start your tale of woe.”

 

“Aren’t we supposed to go down for dinner first?”

 

“My mum will probably leave the food on a tray outside my room—she did the same when Woojin came over. C’mon, spill.”

 

Daniel shook his head, eyes crinkling up with that heart-stopping smile again, laughing from Jihoon’s incessant poking at his sides. “Okay, fine. So, there was a boy.”

 

“There was a boy.”

 

The older guy shot him a look as if to say _shut up_ and Jihoon actually found himself obeying immediately, closing his eyes and settling down in his spot. He wanted to call what they were doing _snuggling_ , but he didn’t dare to. _But is it?_ the tiny voice in his heart whispered.

 

“And this boy, he was only four when he discovered how much he loved the night. Because by his house, there was a big, old tree where fireflies would gather when dusk brought on a blanket of darkness that covered the sky. And he thought they were beautiful, so he’d visit the same spot every single day of his life.”

 

“Alone? Isn’t it dangerous?”

 

“Not really. This was… during the Joseon dynasty and the boy was a noble. His house was big and constantly guarded, and he was the youngest of the six siblings of this household. Every single day, he had the same routine. He’d go through painful hours of learning with private tutors for the most part of the day, and right after he finished dinner, he’d run out to this big tree and wait for night to arrive and the fireflies to take flight and swirl around him. Until the day he turned seven.

 

“On his birthday, he’d arrived late to the same spot because of the elaborate birthday celebration going on inside. When he came out all decked out in finery, he found that he was not the only person standing under the tree that night. Hiding behind the huge trunk was another boy—barely older than he was, scrawny and thin but definitely taller. And in this boy’s dirty, calloused hands, he held a jar that glowed with a moving light. He’d caught a firefly. This boy’s name was Euigeon.”

 

 _Euigeon_. The name felt familiar on his lips, and it felt so _right_.

 

“He stretched his hands out towards the noble boy, who flinched and took a step back, unsure of what Euigeon was attempting. That night, under the moonlight, Euigeon saw the noble boy in his element—dressed in silks and all kinds of cloth that he didn’t know the names of, and even if he did, he wouldn’t know how to pronounce them. Euigeon saw the boy’s smooth, pearl-like skin, luminous and bright around the edges thanks to the greenish-yellow light of the fireflies, and his mouth hanging open in shock. When the servant boy looked down at his own dirty garments and bare feet and arms stained red from hours of dyeing this family’s clothes, he could see why the noble-born boy was surprised.

 

“That night, he felt stupid. Stupid for thinking that they could have something in common with each other—”

 

“—the fireflies.”

 

Daniel smiled wryly, looking up at the stars twinkling like he was reminded of the insects themselves.

 

“Yes. Turns out, the spot had been the servant boy’s even before the noble boy ‘ _claimed’_ it. But the day the boy first came and got entranced by the fireflies, Euigeon had been late because some of the older guys in the kitchen bullied him into running some errands for them in town. For the first time in his life, he thought a _noble_ looked human. So for the youngest son of the family, Euigeon had mustered up the courage to try to speak to him on his seventh birthday. But then… it didn’t seem like he was welcome. Clad in all that traditional noble gear and glittering jewelry, the boy just looked like another one of them, and not the human Euigeon had seen before. He dropped the jar and ran.”

 

“Stupid,” Jihoon cursed.

 

“Who, the noble?”

 

“ _No_. Euigeon is. He should’ve waited for a moment longer.”

 

The older guy scoffed in disbelief. “And let himself be scrutinized by a preening noble’s eye?”

 

“He’s just a _boy_. He wouldn’t have done anything mean.”

 

“I don’t think that would be the first thing to pop into your mind had you lived in this boy’s shoes. He was bullied and pushed around his whole life. And being a mere kitchen helper and not a concubine or even a glorified private servant, his mother could do nothing to help either. I think if that’s the way your life has been since the moment you could remember, you wouldn’t always assume the best case scenario could happen in any situation.”

 

“Fair,” Jihoon conceded.

 

“Little did he know, as soon as he’d left, the noble boy picked up the jar and cradled it carefully in his arms, grateful that it didn’t break under the impact of the fall.”

 

Jihoon sighed. “Can we name him? It’s mean to keep on calling him noble boy like he isn’t anything more beyond his birth status.”

 

“Fine,” Daniel rolled his eyes, “We’ll call him Jihoon.” The younger boy opened his mouth to protest, but Daniel shushed him immediately.

 

“Jihoon decided to keep it. And for the rest of the night, he sat with his back against the tree, mesmerized by the dance of the burning swarm of fireflies above him, illuminating the sky like a frozen firework explosion above the lake. And the thought that it was better than any of the performances his parents had made him sit through earlier. As he walked back into the house, no servant questioned the mysterious jar he’d brought back, and where he’d gotten it from. He placed it next to where he slept, staring at the flickering crackle of light zip here and there within its confinements until he fell into dreamless sleep.

 

“In the next morning, Euigeon was called into the kitchen by servants of higher ranks, people who served and catered to the household directly. When he got there, he saw a familiar little boy dressed more simply than he had the night before. With one thought in mind, Euigeon promptly dropped onto his knees and pressed his forehead against the floor, apologizing repeatedly while tears streamed down his face. He’d assumed that Jihoon had been offended by his actions yesterday and was afraid that the leader of the house had decided to execute him on his son’s orders. Instead, he felt a small hand squeeze his shoulder and a soft voice telling him to get up.

 

“Weirdly enough, Euigeon was suddenly being led into the main wing of the house, winding through hallways gilded in gold and decorated with vases of flowers perfumed by hand. It took him a while to figure out that wherever he was heading, it wasn’t the public execution square. It was Jihoon’s room, where the noble had picked up the dying firefly in his hands and showed it to Euigeon, crying and begging the servant boy to revive the insect.”

 

Jihoon nudged Daniel’s shoulder again, interrupting the latter. “Told you he’s not as bad as he seems.”

 

“We’re not even at the end of the story yet.”

 

“Okay, okay, I’ll let you continue.”

 

Daniel cleared his throat and wet his bottom lip. “Euigeon obviously explained Jihoon that whatever has died couldn’t be brought back to life, no matter how much he wanted to try. But he did promise that they’d go hunting and catching fireflies that night, and that he’d teach Jihoon how to take care of them so that they could live longer under Jihoon’s care. But he’d have to keep it a secret from the rest of his family.

 

“And that was… basically how they bonded. Under an ancient tree, surrounded by fireflies. Fast forward a few years later, when Jihoon was about to turn sixteen, his parents were already talking of marriage. And the noble found it strange that no matter how many beautiful girls were presented to him, all he could think about was being with his servant boy, the only person on earth who could possibly make him smile and laugh and make hours seem like seconds. One day, he decided to try it. He made Euigeon sit on his bedding as he leaned in and touched lips to the older boy. And he found it strange that when they started kissing, it didn’t feel wrong. He found it strange that when Euigeon’s palms were pressed roughly against the fullness of his cheeks, it felt like love.”

 

The place was heating up around Jihoon, and suddenly all he wanted to do was throw away the blankets and let himself cool down. His cheeks were flaming up, too. He hoped that Daniel wouldn’t be able to see it.

 

“Then—one of Jihoon’s older sisters, Yoona, walked in and she was no idiot. She could tell what was going on and had suspected it for quite some time. Yoona gave them two choices—either she revealed their secret relationship to their father and have them both punished, or she would allow Euigeon to leave their house and be sent far away from their town, forever separating the two star-crossed lovers. Jihoon’s marriage could also not be put aside any longer—rumors were starting to spread among the workers and was bound to reach the public soon. It’s obvious which choice Jihoon made. He’d do anything to keep Euigeon alive and safe. He’d bring down the moon if he could, he’d lay down his own life in exchange for Euigeon’s happiness.

 

“Knowing that they only had one more night left together, Yoona took pity and turned a blind eye on them for the last time. They held onto each other, clothes soaked through with sweat and tears. By the time the first light of dawn kissed Jihoon awake and he knew it was time to put on his clothes and prepare himself for the farewell of his lover. It was very early in the morning and it was a private affair. Not many people had heard about it, and even if they did, they wouldn’t care about one more servant boy missing from the picture. But Jihoon did. He cared, and it was stupid that he couldn’t do anything about it just because they were people of two different birthrights.”

 

Jihoon felt tied to these two characters somehow. His heart clenched as though he’d experienced it himself. Orpheus and Eurydice, Euigeon and the noble boy. They all had one thing in common—they were in love, yet they couldn’t be together.

 

“It started raining right before the back door of the house was opened for Euigeon to step away from this family for good. Taking Euigeon by the hand to the fateful place where they’d first met, they both kissed for the last time, for all the times that they couldn’t, for all the years where they shied away from the slightest of touches. He watched Euigeon leave. And with every step he took, Euigeon became surer of the fact that he’d left his heart behind with Jihoon, for when the house was finally out of sight and the town was slowly waking up to the sounds of shops opening and merchants selling their wares, he could only let himself be carried by the current of the people flowing here and there, wondering why he couldn’t feel his heart in his chest anymore. All he felt was—empty.

 

“As for Jihoon, he married. He married well and had kids, but he was never happy. His family only ever felt like home when his wife wasn’t around and he was teaching his kids how to catch fireflies the way someone important in his life had once taught him. And he made sure to tell them that sometimes, people are like fireflies. They’re free creatures, and if you try to catch them and keep them by your side, things won’t end well even if it was a golden cage you locked them in. But these people… they’re things of great beauty. And unfortunately, most of the things we can’t have are irresistible that way.”

 

Jihoon’s hand found Daniel’s in the dark, still wounding the same thread round his fingers. He found the end of the string, then slowly, carefully, unraveled it and let it fly freely, lifted up by the gust of wind that blew by their spot on the roof.

 

“It ends that way?” he asked softly.

 

“Yeah, it does.”

 

So Jihoon caught the strand and looped it around both their pinky fingers, tying them together. He smiled at how fitting it was that the thread was red.

 

Much like the red string of fate.

 

 

 

 

 

**∞**

 

 

 

 

 

Shortly after the story ended, they both climbed back into Jihoon’s room as the weather was quickly taking a plunge in temperature and it was too cold for the both of them to stay out any longer.

 

Jihoon ducked in after Daniel, slamming the window down behind him and remembering to latch it shut. Sure enough, when they opened the door, there were two plates of food outside. The bigger one had a torn piece of paper weighed under the fork and spoon that said ‘ _For Daniel’_. Jihoon rolled his eyes and muttered something about favoritism.

 

With the heater running and Daniel sitting this close to him, Jihoon was too suffocated to breathe properly.

 

“Leave it on the floor,” he told the older guy when they were both done eating. Daniel’s plate was pretty much plowed through and clean for the most part, but Jihoon’s was barely touched at all. The only thing he’d been doing for the past twenty minutes of comfortable silence was spear his vegetables and poke the chicken full of holes. His stomach didn’t even growl at the sight of chicken and _that_ was extremely worrying.

 

“Go on. What’s on your mind?”

 

“I want to know—”

 

“Your past, yeah. Believe it or not, Jihoon, I’ve been trying to help you this whole time.”

 

“But,” Jihoon protested, brows furrowed and the corners of his lips turned down in concentration, awashed in disarray, “you haven’t _told_ me anything. And even if you have, you’re being too cryptic for me to figure out what you mean.”

 

“Jihoon, I couldn’t be more painstakingly obvious with all these hints I’ve been dropping,” Daniel winced.

 

He had a doubtful idea of what Daniel was saying but it wasn’t— _it’s not possible_ , he thought. _It’s just not possible he could be saying that I—_

 

“It’s time for me to go back, thanks for inviting me over,” Daniel interrupted his train of thoughts abruptly, eyes finding Jihoon’s easily enough even in the darkness—they hadn’t bothered to switch on the lights. Wordlessly, Jihoon could only accept that _that_ was the end of the conversation. He picked up the dishes as Daniel went to hold open the door for him.

 

The entire walk down the stairs and into the kitchen was unbearably muted but they made it to the sink in one piece. After dumping all of that into the sink unceremoniously, they went into the dining room so Daniel could bid his mother goodbye.

 

“Thank you so much for having me, Mrs. Park. Dinner was amazing.”

 

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart, you can come over as much as you like whenever you’re free. Remember to bring your mum over next time, alright?”

 

Daniel nodded and hugged her for just a second before he was getting pulled away to the front door. When Jihoon made sure that no one was around to “accidentally” overhear their conversation, he took in a deep breath before he spoke the words on his mind.

 

“Have you noticed how you have a tendency to inhale and exhale at least once before you’re about to say something important?” he smile, but Jihoon could tell that he was nervous, too.

 

“Were we together?” _There._ He did it.

 

“Honestly? I’m not sure what to call it, Jihoon,” sighed Daniel, “Things had been unclear between us even before you got into the accident. We were… happy together. Then suddenly you introduced me to Jinyoung and you called him your boyfriend and I-I lost it. I was confused.”

 

“The accident happened right after we had a fight?”

 

“No. Something happened between you and Jinyoung first. It was… four days after our fight.”

 

“What happened? Tell me.”

 

“ _I don’t know,_ Jihoon!” He must’ve suddenly remembered how Jihoon’s mother was still inside and that she could’ve overheard him shouting, because he leaned down and lowered his voice into a hushed tone. “I _really_ don’t know. All I know is that I got to school the next day and everyone was talking about you, stuck in coma, in critical condition, and on the verge of dying. Fuck, the teachers were talking about it too and wherever I go, I couldn’t escape it. I couldn’t escape from myself as much as I wanted to because it was _sickening_ and fucking horrible to picture you dying in a million ways every second that dragged on, _okay?”_

Jihoon rested both his hands on Daniel’s shoulders and squeezed the muscles there, trying to get the older boy to see past his tears and make out Jihoon’s shape standing before him. “I’m here.”

 

“Everyone,”—Daniel threw his head back, trying to get the tears to stop coming—“ _everyone_ was speculating who the hit and run driver was and it felt like I was the only fucking person who cared solely about whether _you_ would live or not.”

 

“I’m here now,” Jihoon said as he pressed his cheek against Daniel’s stuttering chest, arms wrapped tightly around the boy’s waist. “I’m here now,” he repeated, then he chanted it over and over again until it sounded like a promise he could keep.

 

 

 

 

  

**∞**

 

 

 

 

 

As he twisted and turned in bed that night, Jihoon was still confused about many things, much to his chagrin.

 

But at least he knew now that Daniel liked him.

 

And that he liked Daniel back.

 

And for now, he hoped that was enough, that it was all the universe could ask for from them.

 

He hoped.

 

 

 

 

 

**∞**

 

 

 

 

 

He didn’t see Daniel until Saturday night (technically Sunday.) He’d visited the house across the street for two, three times during the day, knocking like a crazy person but to no avail. Neither Daniel or his mum was home.

 

For the rest of the evening, he just stayed in bed, under covers peeking out to watch the sunlight fall into his room through the window, lying on his bedroom’s floor like someone had spilled golden honey all over the carpet. There were a lot of good things about having both his parents as, well, _his parents_. But the best thing about them was that they knew when to give him space to think. They didn’t like to pry—they were great believers in letting him say what he wanted to when he was ready.

 

So he was looking forward to a whole weekend of lazing in bed, undisturbed with a few breaks and intervals in between when he cried his eyes red and puffy for reasons unbeknownst to him. And it _was_ that way.

 

That was, until four in the morning on Sunday, it seemed, when someone decided that it was a good idea to knock on his window until he woke up.

 

Jihoon had always been a light sleeper.

 

He slung his legs over the edge of his bed, crossed the room and parted the curtains and _there he was_ , just where Jihoon knew he would be. Somehow.

 

He slid the window open.

 

“I have so many questions,” Jihoon uttered suddenly. Daniel looked tired. His hair was messy, his lips chapped, skin icy. But his eyes looked like they had twin fires burning in them with purpose, a drive.

 

“And I think I only have one answer.”

 

Jihoon gulped. “And what’s that?”

 

With one finger, Daniel beckoned him closer. Then he wrapped his hands around Jihoon’s head, fingers tangled in the younger boy’s locks of hair, and pulled him forward into a kiss that was hesitant at first, and turned amazing in a second. It was _warm, warm, warm_. And all Jihoon could think about was how much he wanted to push himself out the window and crawl into Daniel’s lap and _stay there_ kissing this boy.

 

It was messy. Teeth clashing, tongues colliding, hands roving. But it was Daniel. It was Daniel. And maybe it was the moonlight alighting his features from above, or maybe it was the withdrawal Jihoon had been suffering since he woke up without Daniel beside him, but something about tonight made him hungrier for this, sloppier with a sense of urgency behind his every move.

 

And he was out the window, toppling onto Daniel when he realized that it was raining, but they weren’t wet. It didn’t feel like they were wet. Maybe they were. Maybe they weren’t. Maybe they just didn’t care.

 

But with Daniel here, kissing him, holding him, Jihoon felt like anything could be possible—

 

It was like they were unpouring the rain.

 

Daniel suddenly pulled away mid-kiss, only to press his lips against Jihoon’s forehead. “Let’s get out of here. Go grab your jacket.”

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“I don’t know— _anywhere._ I’m so sick of this fucking place. I need to tell you something.”

 

Jihoon nodded.

 

With Daniel, he’d go anywhere. His Orpheus, his Kang Euigeon.

 

 

 

 

 

**∞**

 

 

 

 

 

“How did you find out?” Daniel asked him, hand sneaking into the pocket of Jihoon’s jacket to hold his. They were sitting at a bus stop with a flickering light, waiting for the drizzling to stop so… whatever happened next could happen. “How do you even know if it’s for real?”

 

Jihoon shrugged, but honestly, he didn’t know either. He couldn’t pinpoint an exact moment when he suspected this and just _knew_ he was the person Daniel had been carving in every sculpture that came to be by his hands. That he’d been in love with Daniel for two whole lifetimes. And that he’d forgotten their story twice—no, _three_ times. “It’s instinct. To trust you.”

 

He couldn’t believe how happy that one sentence made Daniel, a wide, toothy grin spreading from ear to ear on his face. It was unfair how beautiful this guy could look even beneath a broken, fluorescent light.

 

“Have you ever read the Great Gatsby?”

 

“I don’t remember if I have.”

 

“Well, in that book, there’s a famous quote. ‘There are all kinds of love in this world, but never the same love twice.’”

 

He thought this could be Daniel confessing. He didn’t think it’d happen this way—in a shady, isolated bus stop with the hem of their pants drenched with dirty rainwater and hair dripping droplets onto their faces. But now that it was happening, he couldn’t imagine it unfolding any other way.

 

“What’s our love?”

 

Daniel smiled like it was the right answer. His fingers curled around Jihoon’s in the warmth of his pocket and all he could think about was how well they both fit together. In the world that had always been against them.

 

“Our love is infinity.”

 

Daniel’s other hand was playing with his matted hair, looking at him like he was looking at something through a window, something he couldn’t have. _What is this?_

 

“Jihoon, I need to tell you something.”

 

 _No_.

 

They just got back together, the universe couldn’t make them part ways like this again. This must be some fucking joke.

 

_Why couldn’t they just—_

“I don’t want to hear it,” he said, the words hanging on his trembling bottom lip. Even with the rain still dripping down Daniel’s face, Jihoon could see the tears. He could see them. He could see what was about to happen and all he could do was fucking tighten his hold on Daniel’s hand and anchor him to this moment. “I don’t want to hear it,” he repeated, shaking his head and lowering his gaze. Maybe if he prolonged this for as long as he could…

 

 _It hurts_. _It fucking hurts._

 

He said it was infinity. But this couldn’t be the end for them this lifetime. Jihoon was just starting to piece together the memories and sew both his lives back together. This couldn’t be goodbye.

 

But this was the way things have always been for them, wasn’t it? He could see the answer to the question he’d asked himself before now. They were both equally hurting. There was nothing more agonizing than a fresh wound that ripped your heart out. And because Daniel was his soulmate, chances were that this emptiness would never be filled for the rest of this life. The pain of knowing that Daniel would be nothing more than a stranger to him in the next life was fucking insufferable, the weight of this knowledge crushing him and knocking the breath out his lungs.

 

“Don’t say it,” Jihoon pleaded.

 

But his prayers must’ve fallen on deaf ears, because in the next moment, Daniel was pulling him into his embrace—a hug goodbye—and pressing his lips to Jihoon’s ears.

 

“I have to go, Jihoon. I have to leave before dawn.”

 

Jihoon’s body was shaking, quaking in his grasp, head shaking in refusal to _believe_ that this was true in the crook of Daniel’s neck. “ _No,”_ he cried, “you’re not.”

 

“You can’t try to come find me and my mum, got it? You can’t. Jihoon, look at me. _Look at me_ ,” Daniel said firmly, raising Jihoon’s trembling chin with two fingers to level their eyes, “Jihoon. I’ll find you. I’ll find you wherever you are. But for now, you’ll just have to wait. Promise me you will, and that you’ll stay safe, and you’ll take care of yourself even without me around. You’ve been doing great for the past week, I’ll put my trust in you. That you’ll do as much for me.”

 

“What happened?” he managed to ask through stutters and indecipherable words. “Why—”

 

“My dad.”

 

“Is this goodbye?”

 

“No,” Daniel promised against Jihoon’s lips, “only for now.”

 

 

 

 

 

**∞**

 

 

 

 

 

Kang Daniel came into his life like a storm and ripped through everything in his way, then left the same moment the rain had stopped pouring and vanished like there had been nothing in the first place. The skies cleared up, and the sun starting shining, and he hated how the world had resumed back to normal.

 

He hated how he’d thought that they were powerful enough to stand against the universe and defy odds and unpour rain.

 

In the end, they were just the same pair of star-crossed lovers they’d been doomed to be since day one. They were nothing special. But they were infinity.

 

He sat at the bus stop, half dead, half alive, until his parents found him and scolded him the whole time they were driving him back. At night, the both of them came into his room to hug him and tell him that they were always available for a talk if he ever needed help. All he could stare at was past their shoulders and at the window where he could see Daniel and him stargazing. Even after they left the room, he spent every waking second wishing that Daniel would knock and slide in and tell him that they could be together.

 

When he realized that the only time he could be with Daniel again was in his dreams, he started sleeping so much his brain could barely comprehend his nonexistent schedule anymore, and that left him disoriented for days. Weeks. The months that followed.

 

Four days after Daniel packed up and left with his mum to escape his crazy dad, Jihoon was forced to go to school after a warning letter had been sent to his house.

 

He hated it there, hated how much the disappearance of the greatest person on earth—the smear of color in a crowd of greys and blacks—had gone unnoticed. Sometimes it felt like Daniel had been a dream. A very, very long and realistic dream.

 

Ironically, the only class he ended up being focused in was sculpting, where he could chat for hours on end about Daniel with Mr. Kim.

 

Often times, when it was getting hard for him to tell what was real and what was not, he’d book studio 203 and sit in Daniel’s seat, surrounded by his paintings and the music sheets he used to play and all the sculptures Daniel had once breathed life into until it almost felt comforting. Like Daniel had his arms around him.

 

And then he’d retreat into this negative, hollow space in himself and cried until he emptied his system of all tears.

 

He started writing. Because on pages and paper, he’d discovered, everything was more beautiful. More so than paintings and drawings and everything he’d been doing wrong up until now.

 

It was funny that Daniel had seen this coming the whole time. It was funny how Jihoon was putting the third story Daniel had promised he’d tell into words, because now, he knew it was his own to narrate.

 

And his story and Daniel’s— _their_ story—deserved the most beautiful of words this cruel, ugly world could offer.

 

 

 

 

 

**∞**

 

 

 

 

 

**Eight years later.**

Jihoon was glad he’d chosen a small venue like this. He didn’t like large crowds, and he couldn’t speak well in front of them anyway. This was better. Much more intimate and private, and he could look at each and every one of his fans in the eye and communicate with them earnestly, voicing lengthy thank yous and giving hugs without worrying about the next person in line.

 

His book had just been published for a few months and he was already labeled as an up-and-coming author to watch for the next few releases. He’d also gained a massive following on tumblr and twitter in particular, so that was where he’d talk to his fans most of the time.

 

But book meetings—

 

They were his favorite. There were many questions you wouldn’t think of, or manage to word properly, when you’re not looking at that person face to face. And he’d learnt that he always answered better under circumstances like these as well, so he arranged book meetings at corner cafes or other quiet, closed off venues as often as he could.

 

“In your opinion, what’s the most beautiful part of their relationship?”

 

“It only happens once every lifetime for everyone—finding your soulmate and noticing that they are different right away. This is the person you’d be content with spending the rest of your lifetime forever with. This is the person you don’t have to say ‘I love you’ to every single hour for them to know that you do, and vice versa. And this… this is what I find the most beautiful about them, the way they fall in love and the way they _stay_ in love.

 

“I think that finding your soulmate among the billions of people on earth is a pretty normal occurrence but sometimes we just spend too much time _looking_ that we don’t see. See that they’ve been right beside us the whole time. I find beauty in clichés, because they wouldn’t be called that if they weren’t common. It has always been a matter of how you’re going to twist that cliché into your own, personal story in the end.”

 

There was a small smatter of applause that broke out after his answer, then his assistant was signaling for him to wrap it up.

 

He said goodbye to each of them, who’d all asked him to sign the backs of their books. He saw a few of them hesitating when their eyes found Daniel’s name in the acknowledgments, almost as though they wanted to ask Jihoon who that person was. None of them did.

 

When he walked out, it was raining. His assistant, a bubbly, upbeat boy with orange hair called Daehwi, insisted on running to the nearest convenience store to purchase an umbrella, but Jihoon refused it every time. In the end, Jihoon won the battle and they both stood on the sidewalk, waiting for the traffic light to turn green before they could cross the road to get to the car.

 

He thought it was a mistake at first.

 

Because it wasn’t possible.

 

But it was his smell, his build, the sense of familiarity he wore like cologne.

 

When Jihoon got to the other end of the street, he wasted no time in turning around to check if his eyes had just been playing tricks on him again. Maybe he’d stayed up too late for a few nights consecutively. Because it still happened sometimes. He’d still see a shadow of Daniel in the crowd, and then he’d disappear. Or maybe Jihoon would run and catch the person he thought was Daniel, only to find out that that person looked _nothing_ like his lover.

 

But this—

 

It was unmistakably him, staring back at Jihoon with the same eye smile that made his heart beat just a little faster, clench a little harder. He felt his eyes welling up with tears.

 

Daniel was here.

 

He pointed at something behind Jihoon, and as much as it pained him to do so, he forced himself to whip around and see what Daniel was trying to show him. A building. An exhibition hall.

 

 _Daniel’s_ exhibition.

 

There was a banner hanging above the entrance that only had one word on it: _Infinity_. And there were so many people flooding into it, fighting to get a space in the hall.

 

The hope was rising in him fast. Daniel was mouthing something at him.

 

“ _Our story.”_

Daniel had left like the storm, but now he was back, and he’d brought the sunshine with him.

 

They were infinity. And this was their story.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry you made it this far. i hope you cried. i love you :>
> 
> (feel free to shout at me for the grammar mistakes because this was too long to proof read)


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